Once upon a December
by Hannani
Summary: One-Shot. "When you use magic, you use it in a cold and emotionless way, a means to an end. When Muggle-borns use magic, they experience the uniqueness every time afresh. We feel magic. And magic responds to that."


**N/A:** I got the inspiration for this one-shot when I listened to the song and remembered the scene from the movie. I always found it magical.

 **Disclaimer:** All of the Potterverse belongs to J. K. Rowling. The song is 'Once upon a December' from the movie 'Anastasia' created by 20th-Century-Fox-Studios. I owe nothing.

* * *

Hermione could barely keep her head from rolling around, as she was dragged through Malfoy's Manor. Each one of her upper arms was in a steel grip of a Death Eater, as she was hauled to the middle of the room. She still suffered from the after-effects of the _Cruciatus Curse_ , that Bellatrix so loved to throw at her. Hermione knew that she would feel better in a few minutes, the weakness and the shakiness would disappear in a relative short amount of time. The aching bones, sickening feeling in her stomach and the copper taste in her mouth would stay way longer.

The rough hands let her fall face first to the cold floor. Getting her hands under her body, she pushed herself painfully slow in a sitting position. She knew that Harry and Ron would come for her. She just needed to buy enough time to survive that long. Raising her head, she took her surroundings in.

She was in the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. It must've been beautiful once, but now it looked dark and eerie. It was still impressive, with its tall ceiling, the stucco on the walls and the richly crested wallpaper. An excellent piano stood not too far away, reminding her of better days. Even the marble floor was breathtakingly beautiful. But there was a darkness in the room, seeping into every corner, obscuring the beauty with its gloom. The impressive chandelier could barely light up the room.

Looking beyond the room, she examined the present people and her stomach clenched painfully. Sitting on a throne-like chair was Lord Voldemort himself, eyeing her with a glint of interest. He was surrounded by his followers, the Malfoys right next to him. Maybe her time had run out.

"So that's Potters Mudblood?" the Dark Lord asked almost in disinterest.

Bellatrix rushed forwards, falling to his knees. "Yes, my Lord. I tried to loosen her tongue, but the filthy Mudblood is just too stubborn. If I should continue…?"

The snake-like man waved her away. "No, she's not worth it", he said dismissively.

"Of course, of course!" Bellatrix returned to her spot backwards, bowing as she moved.

Red eyes landed on Hermione again.

"I really can't see why they call you the brightest witch of your age. How could a Muggleborn grasp magic in all its entirety?"

Hermione had never quite understood how prejudice could make someone so blind. She was aware that all eyes were on her, as she released a small but audible chuckle. The room fell silent. She had to buy time. She refused to give up.

„You think that funny?" the Dark Lord asked. He sounded displeased.

Raising her head she looked at his face, avoiding his eyes. There was no need to tempt him to use _Legilimency_. She chuckled again and shrugged her shoulders.

"Prey tell, what to you find so amusing?"

"Muggle-borns don't have an inferior understanding about magic", she said in a hoarse voice. For days now she had only used it to scream her pain out in the world, but never telling Bellatrix a thing. "But I do agree, that we have _another_ understanding of it. One with more appreciation."

"How so?" the Dark Lord hissed.

Hermione rightened herself in a more upright position. Maybe she was sitting on the floor, but she could at least sit with a certain amount of dignity.

"Muggle-borns are only confronted with magic when they're already eleven years old. We've had ages to understand, that magic is nothing more than a fantasy. But suddenly, this fantasy is real. We learn all these wonderful and astonishing things we can do, only with a flick of our wand. Every time we use our magic, it's a wonder to us. When you use magic, you use it in a cold and emotionless way, a means to an end. When Muggle-borns use magic, they experience the uniqueness every time afresh. We feel magic. And magic responds to that."

Hermione was aware that she was exaggerating. Harry was a Half-Blood and grew up with Muggles. But he considered magic just as special as she did. Regarding Tom Riddles upbringing, it was quite likely that he himself still felt amazement. Maybe the perception of magic had something to do with your upbringing, but less with your blood status. Hermione simply wanted to challenge the Dark Lord to react to her, to give her a chance to stall.

Voldemort laughed shrilly. „So you claim to use magic in a different way? And in turn, create something that we never experienced?"

The young with inclined her head, gesturing her agreement.

"Then show us", the Dark Lord challenged her. "Let us all see how you _feel_ your magic."

Staying on the floor a breath longer, Hermione nodded. What she'd told them was the truth. Harry and Hermione were so often in awe, when Ron was almost bored with magic. Especially Hermione loved to use her magic in a playful way that was not useful at all, but gave her great joy.

Hermione pushed herself up on her feet and walked on shaky legs towards the piano. Sitting down she let her fingers run over the keys without pushing them. Her family had always been very strict in her education. And for her mother education did not end with books. She wanted her daughter to be a cultured young lady, which meant that Hermione had to learn to dance and to play a few instruments among others. Thankfully Hermione loved to play the piano. Losing herself in the music, she could clear her ever busy mind and just _feel_. And that's what she was going to show them.

Getting in the correct position, Hermione touched her fingertips to the keys, feather-light. She looked up, letting her gaze sweep over the gloomy ballroom. Catching the eyes of the Dark Lord she started a slow and relatively easy melody. She hadn't played for a long time and wanted to avoid making mistakes.

After a few notes she felt herself relax and closed her eyes. As the notes swirled through the air, she let them mix with her magic, lacing each tone with an intention to show phantom images.

When she took her second hand to join the piano, she imaged the ball room brighten up. The chandelier would shine brighter, illuminating the whole room and banishing the darkness. The air would freshen up and hold a smell of powder and subtle perfume. The colours would intensify, making the room livelier.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that her magic was already at work. The room looked exactly how she had imagined it. Closing her eyes again, she let the music and magic carry her away, to another time.

 _Translucent figures appeared. Ladies with puffy dresses and gentlemen in tailcoats, radiating with elegance and confidence. Men were bowing in front of beautiful women. The women answered with low curtseys, taking the offered hands. Finding each other, couples started to dance, twirl and spin and whirl in the most beautiful fashion._

Hermione added a hint more force as she touched the keys, making the music sound more dramatic.

 _The couples moves faster and faster, laughing and enjoying themselves. The skirts of the ladies swished around their feet, flashing their stockings clad ankles. In the background, a man could be seen with platinum blond hair and silvery eyes, raising his glass in a festive toast. The people surrounding him joined in, happily laughing, while the dancing couples continued their graceful movements._

Adding even more force Hermione thought about a different image.

 _The dancing and laughing and toasting phantoms all disappeared, but the one with the blond hair and the silvery eyes. Sitting down on an appearing chair, an audience formed around him, swallowing him up, till he was just a part of the crowd. The people were just as stunning, but more subdued. Though the gentlemen sill wore tailcoats, the girls were waring elegant and light dresses, nothing compared to the heavy ball gowns. They were classy and charming. All of them sitting, they faced one direction, watching a pianist giving a concert. The pianist was moving along to his music, losing himself in it, while he captured the attention of his audience that listened, breathless._

With heavy and jerky movements Hermione accented the drama in her composition, before she lightened the tone up again, thinking of yet another image.

 _Dissolving, as a gust of wind nebulised the phantoms into golden mist, just two people appeared. The man with the blond hair and silvery eyes, along with a gorgeous woman. They were standing in front of each other. The man offered the woman his hand and she took it without hesitation. But unlike the happy and lively couples before, the woman stepped closer and leant her head on the shoulder of her partner. Moving delicate and slow, the men led her through a dance that was more about the closeness of two people and less about correct steps and form._

Hermione slowed down and paused for a second before she continued.

 _The two people looked in each other eyes, lost in one another, unseeing to the world around them._

Touching the key for her last tone, Hermione felt like she was waking up. The room was dark and gloomy again, lost was the magic that she had created. But when she looked at the Death Eaters, she could see a glint of wonder in some of their faces. She had been successful in showing them how it felt to let magic be wondrous once again.

"Take her back to the dungeon!" the Dark Lord hissed.

Hermione stood up from her chair and held her head high, even as a Death Eater grabbed her once more and forcefully dragged her along.

* * *

Back in her damp cell, Hermione had lost all sense of time. Closing her eyes she thought about the wonderful feeling her magic had given her. She knew that Harry and Ron would come for her. Deep within her, she was certain that she just needed to hold on longer. There was no one in the world whom she trusted more than her two boys. They would find a way to free her and then the three of them would stop this damned war.

A distinctive _Plop_ interrupted her thoughts.

"Dobby is here to get Miss Hermione to safety."


End file.
